


Wreck

by inkfishie



Series: Autology [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Dom/sub Undertones, Drunken Shenanigans, Galaxy Garrison, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Kerberos Mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 05:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkfishie/pseuds/inkfishie
Summary: Bad choices, going out in the middle of the week without your boyfriend and the perils of playing wing-man to Matthew Holt. It's just a typical Wednesday for Keith Kogane.





	Wreck

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. This is a follow up to Weak. It's actually been sitting on my computer for a while. Thought I'd dust it off and finish it up. This is totally just self-indulgent smut. :)  
> Again, inspired by a piece by @theprojectava which you can find here :)  
> https://theprojectava.tumblr.com/post/167167880273/you-taught-me-how-to-be-brave-we-climbed-up-to
> 
>  
> 
> As always you can find me on tumblr @ inkfishie

 

 

 **KoganeK (7:30 PM):** _Matt wants me to go to that party with him, you coming?_

 **ShiroT (7:31 PM):** _Naw, I can’t. Study group then I have a report for Harris. :( You go have fun though._

 **KoganeK (7:31 PM):** _I can just stay in. I’ll come over when you’re done. nbd._

 **ShiroT (7:32 PM):** _Don’t worry about me, babe. Go with Matt, you could stand to make more friends ;)_

 **KoganeK (7:33 PM):** _I have you, what do I need friends for? :P_

 **ShiroT (7:33 PM):** _My point exactly. I’m a horrible friend. I make all the good decisions. Mostly. Text me when you get back so I don’t have to worry, k?_

 **KoganeK (7:34 PM):** _Ugh. Loser. Okay, but if I get bored I’m out. Matt’s only going coz that girl he likes will be there. He’s probably gonna want me to be his wingman._

 **ShiroT (7:35 PM):** _A girl? Ewww gross. Don’t catch cooties! ;D_

 **KoganeK (7:35 PM):** _Can it, Shirogane. Don’t make me come over there._

 **ShiroT (7:36 PM):** _Is that a threat or a promise? <3 _

**KoganeK (7:37 PM):** _I’m going now. I’ll text you later, you nerd. <3 _

**ShiroT (7:40 PM):** _Have fun!!_

 

The party is a bust. Keith knows it from the moment he’s dragged inside the club. Amusingly he had been in the very same club several weeks earlier with Shiro. Like before, It’s the middle of the week, and he’s got classes in the morning. That doesn’t stop Keith though, nor does it stop the handful of other Garrison students he spots, Matt included.  

“Do you think she’s here yet?” Matt asks over the thump of the music.

Keith, unsure of why he’s even there, shrugs. “I don’t even know who Angela is. You’re on your own, man.”

Matt pushes out an annoyed breath and links his arm with Keith. He pulls in close and rolls his eyes in Keith’s direction. “You know, Angela. She’s in Computer Engineering. Tall? Dark hair? Killer smile and legs for days?”

Keith returns Matt’s frown with a blank look. “Shiro has a killer smile and legs for days too. All muscular and shit. ” He says.

Matt balks. His nose wrinkles up and makes a sound of disgust. There’s a smile there though and he shoves at Keith’s side playfully. “Gross, I do not need to know about your lewd fantasies starring our mutual bestie.”

Shrugging, Keith’s mouth tugs into a smile. “You deserved that one though,” He tells Matt.

“Yeah, I probably did,” Matt agrees. Then he’s turning to scan the crowd, presumably to look for Angela.

What Keith doesn’t say is that he knows exactly who Matt is looking for. In fact, Keith actually knows Angela fairly well. He’s spotted her at least half a dozen times lingering in the hall after Shiro’s Differential Geometry class. He’s seen her in the dining hall several tables over from where Shiro generally sits. And he’s caught her dawdling in the gym after he and Shiro finish their sparring sessions. It’s pretty obvious what she’s after. She also doesn’t have a chance in hell because Keith’s already claimed that shit and he’s _possessive_.

“Shit, there she is!” Matt hisses in Keith’s ear.

Pulled from his thoughts, Keith peers through the crowd. Sure enough, slotted in against the bar, is Angela. Surrounded by several of her friends, she’s entrenched in conversation. Her long hair is pinned back in a soft, loose bun and several strands frame her heart-shaped face. She’s wearing some sort of lacy dress that cinches at the waist and flows down to her knees. It flaunts her figure and her legs and Keith supposes that objectively speaking, she looks great. Matt seems to think so anyway because he’s all but vibrating with anxious energy. He’s also staring and it’s a bit creepy.

“...We could just go say hi?” Keith suggests, giving Matt a little nudge. “Yanno, instead of oogling like a serial killer?”

“Shit you’re right,” Matt curses, whipping his gaze in Keith’s direction. “We should go say hi. Yeah, that’s… Yeah. Okay. Cool.”

“Okay,” Keith agrees, shoving Matt forward. “C’mon. We’ll just get drinks or something.”

Stumbling, Matt takes a step closer to the bar. He takes a moment to attempt to flatten the tufts of his tawny hair, but it’s a losing battle. Still, despite Matt’s nervousness, Keith can’t help but be impressed. Matt slides up to the bar like a champ, with a confident, if not cocky, grin plastered across his face. He raises an arm to catch the bar tender’s attention as Keith slots in next to him. It’s only after Matt has his drink in hand and slid one over to Keith that he turns toward Angela. Matt feigns surprise then smoothly slips into a lull in the conversation she’s having with her friends.

“Angela! Hey! Didn’t know you were coming to this thing. You look amazing!” Matt says.

Keith takes a sip of his drink, then peers around Matt to take in the proceedings. Angela’s friends are all wearing the same expression; carefully neutral. Keith knows from experience it’s not a good look. Angela, meanwhile, is wearing a vapid sort of smile that says she’d rather be anywhere else and oh god why is the guy talking to me. Poor Matt doesn’t stand a fucking chance. It’s not his fault. Girls like Angela have a very specific type. Too bad for Angela her type tends to want boys like Keith.

Keith grins and drains his glass. Angela doesn’t stand a chance either. The thought has him wondering what Shiro is up to so Keith reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He’s in the midst of tapping out a message when a voice catches his attention.

“Is that Kogane hiding behind you? I didn’t know you two were friends,” Angela exclaims.

Glancing up, Keith watches as Angela jostles through her friends and wiggles in between Matt and Keith. Pressed between the two of them now, the curve of Angela’s back brushes against Matt. She must know what she’s doing because she tosses a coy smile and an apology over her shoulder and pushes up against Keith’s side.

“Hi,” Angela says over the music. Her smile is flirtatious and she’s peering at Keith through her lowered lashes.

Keith cranes his head to the side, taking in the way Matt is spluttering like a fish over Angela’s shoulder. He turns his attention back to Angela and frowns.

“Shiro isn’t here if that’s what you’re wondering,” Keith tells her as he hits send on the text he was tapping out and crams the phone back into his pocket.

“That’s fine,” Angela shoots back. “I don’t mind chatting with you,”

She looks entirely too smug for Keith’s liking and suddenly he wishes he hadn’t finished his drink off so quickly. Uncomfortable, he shuffles where he stands, trying to put some space between them. Angela sways in close again, and Keith shoots a helpless look in Matt’s direction. He isn’t any help though, he’s just sort of looking at Keith all wide-eyed and astonished. Keith scowls and reaches for his wallet. He needs something else to drink and is in the midst of flagging down the bartender when Angela latches an arm around his bicep.

“Get me one too?” She asks playfully. Her body presses closer and Keith can feel the rounded swell of her breasts against his shoulder.

Matt is all but flailing now. His face has gone all red and he’s being shuffled aside by Angela’s friends who are drawn in by the lure of free drinks. Keith feels his face fault. He feels like he’s missing something critical and like he’s surrounded by a pack of apex predators.

“Uh...” He replies, glancing between Angela, her friends, and Matt.

“Kogane is buying drinks?” Asks one of the girls.

Keith vaguely recognizes her from one of his classes but he isn’t sure which.

“He’s cute, Ang, this the one you’ve been spying on in the gym?” Another chimes in. She’s short and dark-haired but Keith doesn’t know who she is. “I thought he was some sort of hermit or something. You always did have a thing for the quiet ones though,”

Angela laughs, and the sound is far too sharp over the thump of the music. She nudges closer and the heat of her radiates against Keith’s arm. “Don’t mind them,” She teases. “They’re just jealous I got to you first,”

At once Keith is aware that he’s made a grievous tactical error. Stupid, he thinks. He’s stupid for thinking it was Shiro she was after. Keith has witnessed countless confessions from both male and female classmates. So many in fact that he’s lost track. Shiro always lets them down gently, he’s just good like that.

But the confessions are _always_ for Shiro. Now that that the tables are turned, Keith has no idea how to react. Shrinking in on himself, he realizes there’s no tactful way out of the situation. Not without revealing far more than he’s comfortable with. Shooting a helpless look in Matt’s direction, Keith gnaws at his lip.

Thankfully, Matt is clever enough to take a hint. He cuts through the crowd of girls and sidles up beside Keith to clap him on the back.

“Ladies, ladies,” Matt says. “We are but poor cadets. Let’s not place the financial burden on Keith alone. He’s got mouths to feed and bills to pay and all the crap.”

The statement doesn’t peel Angela from Keith’s arm, but it does get her friends to back-peddle on the idea that they are going to suck Keith’s wallet dry. Keith is still trying to figure out how to extricate himself from Angela’s grasp when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s all the excuse Keith needs. He wrangles free and steps away from the brunette, not even bothering to offer her an apologetic smile. He still feels a bit rocked by the revelation that she’s been after him this whole time. Slouching with his back against the counter, Keith unlocks his phone to find a message from Shiro.

 

 **ShiroT (10:14 PM):** _Keith. Babe. I’m dying. This report is literally killing me. :(_

 

Smiling, Keith taps out a quick reply.

 

 **KoganeK (10:14 PM):** _Dramatic. It’s not even that late. Finish up and I’ll stop when I get in. If you’re good I’ll make it worth your while._

 

On the other end of the line, the chat bubbles pop up almost immediately. It takes a few, long seconds for Shiro to actually reply though, which means he’s probably undecided on what he actually wants to say. Keith shakes his head and fond amusement. He smiles and it has the corners of his eyes crinkling.

 

 **ShiroT (10:16 PM):** _It’s not even worth it. You’ll have to go on without me. Just don’t do anything too creepy to my beautiful corpse. That would be weird and illegal._

 

Snorting Keith huffs out a quiet laugh.

 

 **KoganeK (10:16 PM):** _You’re illegal you big baby. <3 _

 

The chat bubbles are back again but before Keith gets a chance to see Shiro’s response, Angela is pushing into his side. He barely has a chance to snatch the phone away from her prying eyes. Whipping his head in her direction, Keith frowns at her. But Angela is frowning as well, her pretty mouth twisted in a displeased pout. She nods her head in the direction of his phone.

“Girlfriend?” She asks. There’s no mistaking the snippy way she says the word, or the way her brows pinch.

Keith doesn’t like it. Uneasy, he glances away with a shrug. He doesn’t want to answer the question, but he wants to warn her off. He isn’t sure exactly where Shiro stands on the matter of their relationship being common knowledge, but Keith has always been an intensely private person. He struggles to find some middle ground that isn’t a lie.

“Eh...Not exactly,” He settles on. He stows his phone in his pocket, safe from prying eyes. He glances around and finds that Matt has half his attention on Keith and Angela, the other half on Angela’s friends.

Angela pushes up against his arm again. She arches a hopeful brow and Keith shrinks further into himself. “So...You’re single then?” She asks.

Keith shakes his head. “Sorry, no,” He tells her. He’s not sorry in the slightest, but he’s trying to at least be somewhat gracious despite the fact that his skin is crawling for how familiar she’s being with him.

Thankfully the rejection is enough to have Angela leaning out of his space. She’s upset, Keith can tell. She’s biting at her lower lip as she frowns and for one horrible minute Keith thinks she might start to cry. Thankfully she doesn’t. Instead she just kind of offers a rigid sort of smile and shrugs.

“Oh. Okay. Cool,” She says at length, tone even.

For some reason, it makes Keith feel like he’s done something wrong. Guilt worms its way into his stomach. He might not feel sorry for being off the market so to speak, but he is a little sorry that Angela’s feelings are hurt. He pulls out his wallet and turns to the bar.

“..Let me buy you a drink?” He offers. Somehow it feels like the right thing to do.

After a moment Angela nods. Keith’s phone buzzes again in his pocket as he flags down the bartender. He ignores it in favor of the two shots of whiskey that get set on the counter top in front of him and Angela. He knocks his own back in quick order and is begrudgingly impressed when Angela does the same. She orders another round and shoves the small glass in Keith’s direction. He arches a brow.

“It’s the least I can do,” She says by way of apology.

Keith can’t say no to that. Their glasses clink and down the hatch, the whiskey goes. When they’ve finished, Keith nods in Matt’s direction.

“Hey, so, Matt’s single,” Keith tells Angela. Behind them, Matt perks up on having heard his name. Keith waves him over and he slinks close enough to join the conversation. “Not only is he single,” Keith goes on. “But he’s also the one who trolled Iverson’s SIM class last week.”

What Keith doesn’t tell Angela, was that Keith was the intended target of said trolling. Still, the feat was an impressive one. Somehow Matt managed to hack the sim and reprogram the visual display so that it was a massive, retro arcade game. Keith, rolling with the punches did fairly well considering he’d never played Galaga before. Two days later the display was fixed, though Keith remained at the top of the leader board alongside “T.S.”

Keith’s comment has the desired effect. Angela arches a brow and shoots an appraising look in Matt’s direction. “That was really you?” She asks.

Grinning, Matt pushes his fingers up through his tawny fringe. “Yeah,” He affirms in all confidence. “It wasn’t really that hard. I can tell you how I did it if you’re curious.”

That catches Angela’s attention. Nodding, she waves her friends closer. “Guys, c’mere,” She tells them. “Holt was the one who did the thing to the Sim last week. He’s going to tell us how he did it.”

The girls cluster closer, and Keith, uncomfortable with the lack of personal space, shimmies free. It’s different being here on his own, without the bulk to Shiro’s body beside him to create space for the two of them to inhabit. But Keith has somehow done his duty as a wingman and offers Matt a salute before ordering himself a beer. Matt grins back, pleased to be the center of attention. He launches into an explanation of the SIM prank, and Keith can tell he’s pleased as all hell.

Good for him, Keith thinks, nursing his drink. He pulls out his phone to check his messages.

 

 

***

 

Somehow it’s early enough so that the group of them are right on time to make curfew. Piled into the back of a taxi-van, Keith finds himself pressed between the window and one of Angela’s friends. Angela herself is tittering into Matt’s ear, and if Keith wasn’t so amused, he’d be a little put out by how quickly her affections wavered. _Whatever_ , Keith thinks. It isn’t as though he is actually invested. In fact, the only thing he’s invested in is the flashing screen on his phone alerting him he’s got a new text. He swipes the device open and squints at the brightness of the screen.

 

 **ShiroT (11:34 PM):** _Tired. Still working. Uuugh. You headed back soon?_

 

Keith types out a quick response.

 

 **KoganeK (11:34 PM):** _Yeah, headed back now. Should be there in 15ish? I think Matt’s gonna try to drag me to the B dorm for more drinking. Give me an excuse to bail?_

 

 **ShiroT (11:35 PM):** _Just tell him you're coming to be my emotional support?_

 

 **KoganeK (11:35 PM):** _Can’t. His phone is dead and we’re surrounded._

 

 **ShiroT (11:36 PM):** _Surrounded? Sounds dangerous. Need me to come save you, babe?_

 

Keith smiles, and something in his chest tickles light and airy against his breastbone. He replies quickly.

 

 **KoganeK (11:36 PM):** _Not till your report is done, cadet. How many pages you got left?_

 

Shiro’s response comes slowly. It’s a wall of sad-face emojis followed by text.

 

 **ShiroT (11:38 PM):** _Mean. I’m going to die and all you’re worried about is my report. :( :(_

 

 **KoganeK (11:38 PM):** _Well?_

**ShiroT (11:38 PM):** _800ish words?_

 

 **KoganeK (11:39 PM):** _Then get it done. :P Text me in 800 words._

 

Shiro responds with another wall of sad-face emojis and Keith huffs out a laugh at that. Locking his phone he pushes into the pocket of his jacket and settles his head against the window of the van. He’s not drunk by any means, but he is feeling warm and loose. He’s not tired yet, but he could sleep if he wanted. What Keith really wants, actually, is for Shiro to be done with his work so Keith can crawl into bed and curl up close; skin to skin. It’s been a bit of a hectic week, and Keith hasn’t actually _seen_ Shiro since breakfast that morning. They haven’t had the chance for more than a quick chat since _Monday_.

Keith plans to rectify that situation after Shiro gets his 800 words in. He hopes it’s soon because an achy sort of heat starts to pool low in his gut, pulling him like a string. Outside the van, the lights flash by and Keith can’t help but think of the adventure he and Shiro had gone on several weeks ago. Almost it seems unreal, even now. Almost Keith can’t quite believe that he’d been lucky enough to actually find Shiro and to have his feelings reciprocated.

Keith smiles. Giddy lightness fills the cavity of his chest. It feels a bit like falling. It feels more like flying and Keith _loves_ to fly. He’s not paying attention to what’s going on around him but starts when Matt suddenly whips around in his seat to lean over the back and flick Keith in the head.

“Ow!” He protests as he snatches Matt by the wrist and twists his hand away.

“Focus, Keith. We have a mission.” Matt says.

“What?” Keith demands, somewhat petulant.

“Senior Cadet’s lounge. Galaga.” Matt says by way of laugh explanation.

Keith, knowing that this is going to turn into a shit-show, waffles in indecision. On the one hand, Shiro is waiting for him. Sleepy, grumpy Shiro who, under the right conditions, becomes a human Koala. A big, damned softy that Keith wants to wrap himself in, so that he can breathe in their closeness forever. On the other hand, it’s _Galaga_ and Matt was able to save the data from the SIM incident.

Shiro is at the top of the leader board. Keith is only 7 points behind him and his competitive streak is a mile wide. Keith sits up, eyeing Matt critically.

“My honor is on the line. Victory or death,” Keith says, stoic and serious.

The girls laugh with glee. Matt’s wearing a wide, shit-eating grin. His cheeks are flush from inebriation, but there is something about the manic gleam in his eyes that tells Keith he’s just bitten off more than he can chew.

 “For glory and honor,” Matt intones. He reaches out a hand across the back of his seat and clasps Keith by the forearm. They shake on it.

“Shiro’s going to eat my fucking dust,” Keith tells him.

 Matt crows with delight.

 

***

 

The funny thing about drunken boasts is that often times they don’t amount to much. But Keith is nothing if not stubborn. Bull-headed, really. Once he makes a decision to complete an action, he very rarely gives in. Which was why he is still perched on a sofa in the upper-classmen lounge cursing at the massive television screen several hours later.

Around him, quite a crowd has formed. Other straggling students intent on staying up have joined their small party and brought the booze to boot. Keith, on his sixth bottle of beer, curses at the game. He’s not familiar with the controls. A flight deck is much different than a hand-held controller. Still, Keith is close. So very close, handicaps be damned.

“Do you think he’ll get it this time?” Someone asks.

Keith recognizes the voice. A male student, cargo class.

“Shhh, dude! I’m trying to watch!” Another cadet cuts in.

Keith spares a glance in their direction. He notes the two, one tall and lanky while the other is solid and built like he means business. Keith thinks the bigger guy might be a mechanic. Frowning, he turns back to the game, flying the little ship expertly as he destroys the oncoming alien forces.

The ticker in the corner tells him he’s just behind Shiro’s top score. All Keith has to do is hold out a little longer. Time isn’t on his side though. With a group this large out of bed after curfew, really it’s only a matter of time before they get caught. There’s a sound on Keith’s periphery, a warning he thinks from the lookout at the far end of the lounge.

But Keith is close, he isn’t going to give this up. Not now. Not ever.

“Shit!” Someone calls. “Iverson is coming, everyone out! Evasive actions!!”

The room scatters. Keith’s eyes remain locked on the television screen. The numbers on the counter climb ever higher as confusion erupts around him. He doesn’t crack for even a second, not even as Matt scrambles near to warn him.

“Keith, come _on_!” He snaps.

There are more voices. “Shit, what’s Kogane doing?”

“Just go you dumbass!”

Higher. Higher. Higher. _There_!

The ticker climbs above Shiro’s top score by a hundred points and Keith promptly sends his ship down in flames. He’s punching the buttons to save his play history as the room goes empty. Leaping up from the sofa, Keith snatches at Matt’s arm.

“Run!” He commands.

Matt doesn’t need to be told twice. The TV blinks off and they scatter. Keith goes one way and Matt another. It isn’t abandonment, its sheer pragmatism. Matt’s slippery enough to get away unscathed and Keith is fast enough to outrun their pursuers. They split in one of the long hallways and Keith flies through the dim shell of the sleeping school. Behind him, he hears voices, the MP most likely. He bolts around a corner and into an empty classroom. He jimmies the window open with the knife tucked into his boot and tumbles out into the grass below before they can find him.

The night air is slightly cool, the manicured and carefully cultivated lawn is damp with condensation. Keith’s head swims as he stares up at the night sky that unfurls above him. In his chest, his heart beats a steady, frantic pulse and suddenly he can’t wait to tell Shiro about what’s just happened. He chokes down a snigger, but somehow it becomes a fully-fledged laugh. He has to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from making any noise. God, it’s hilarious. More than hilarious. He snorts behind his hand and wishes more than anything Shiro was there with him.

Through the classroom window above him, a light flickers on. A patch of white fluorescent light bleeds out into the dark. Keith lurches onto his side and clumsily scrambles out from beneath the window. Pulse pounding in his ears, he runs through the shadows of the quad and doubles back to the upperclassmen dorms. He doesn’t go inside, somehow he’s lost his keycard in the shuffle. Even if he had it he wouldn’t risk it anyhow. The system would log his late arrival and he would be questioned the following morning.

Instead, Keith sways through the damp grass, counting the panes of glass until he reaches a familiar window. Somehow it’s almost romantic, and Keith grins as he presses his face to the cool glass. The room inside is dark save for the ambient glow of a computer screen. The pale blue light casts dim shadows across the wall. There, settled on the bed, Keith’s very own sleeping beauty awaits.

The smart thing to do would be to call Shiro. What Keith actually does is whip out his knife to pry the window open. If this had been the first time he’s done such a thing, Keith might’ve been worried about the alarm going off. Shiro keeps it disabled though, for nights like tonight. So Keith proceeds with little care. The catch pops with little help and silent, Keith nudges it upon.

He isn’t graceful as he slithers up over the sill and tumbles inside. In fact, he crashes right into the chair by Shiro’s desk and ends up sprawled and staring up at the ceiling. Keith’s drunken thoughts whorl and he’s tittering as he lays on Shiro’s plush, blue rug.

“Shiro,” Keith wheezes, endlessly amused. “Takashi-- You won’t believe…”

On the bed, Shiro is blissfully unaware of what is going on. He doesn’t even stir, the bastard.

Well, Keith thinks, as he rolls onto his stomach and totters upright, there’s only one thing to do about that. He clambers up the side of the bed and plops down on the edge. Now that he’s here, he’s not sure he wants to actually disturb Shiro. He’s a sprawl of long limbs in sweats and a t-shirt. Said t-shirt is riding up just enough so that Keith can see the enticing dip of Shiro’s navel. His skin looks warm and inviting and Keith wants to touch him there; to run his chilly fingers along the play of muscle and sun-brown skin.

That Keith is allowed to touch Shiro now makes him slightly giddy. Carefully, so very carefully, Keith crawls up the length of Shiro’s body. One hand of Shiro’s hands is curled over his chest and is clutching at his phone. It blinks with message notifications and gingerly Keith pulls the device from Shiro’s lax fingers.

The messages are from Keith. Unread from over an hour ago. In the text box below is an unsent message from Shiro.

 

 **ShiroT (1:14 AM):** _I’m all done, you coming over?_

 

Keith’s mouth curls into a fond smile as he sets Shiro’s phone aside. Carefully he pulls off his jacket and tosses it. Then, he’s leaning over the bulk Shiro’s chest to press a chaste kiss to his chin. The skin there is rough, textured by stubble which tells Keith that Shiro hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. He likes the grit of it and nudges his nose against the line of Shiro’s jaw, reveling in the sensation. Beneath him, Shiro stirs just a bit. Keith mouths at his neck. The hinge of his jaw. His ear. Keith leaves a burning trail of kisses along Shiro’s skin so that he can taste Shiro’s heat.

Shiro stirs again, and this time he makes a soft, sleepy sound. It’s little more than a murmur, a rumbling purr of a sound. Keith reacts to it like a kick in the chest. He grunts out, soft and needy and sucks at the warmth of Shiro’s neck.

“Takashi,” He says. He can hear how low his voice is, can hear the rasp in it. “C’mon, wake up,”

Beneath Keith, Shiro finally wakes. It’s a slow thing though. His muscles flex in a ripple from head to toe until the whole of his body is a taut line. The book tossed across his eyes dislodges and slips to the side as he cranes his neck in the stretch. After that Shiro is scratching at the side of his head. It’s only as an afterthought that he appears to notice Keith because he doesn’t acknowledge he’s not alone for some minutes. Even then it’s a curious little grunt rather than any articulate speech.

“Nngh?”

Keith grins, wide and toothy, and presses his nose into Shiro’s jaw. He flattens himself, gently easing the weight of his body against Shiro’s. “I’m here,” He announces, pleased.

Shiro, still unable to speak, tacitly accepts Keith’s presence.He wraps Keith up in his arms and yawns sleepily. His eyes are still closed, but that’s absolutely fine. Like expected, Shiro koalas and holds fast.

“You’ll never guess what happened,” Keith goes on in a low murmur against Shiro’s skin.

Attentive, despite being half asleep, Shiro hums out in reply. “Hmm?”

“That girl Angela wanted in my pants,” Keith admits, sly. It doesn’t get the response he’s looking for so he tries again. “Also I beat your score on Galaga,”

This gets a soft rumble of acknowledgment but that’s about it. Annoyed, Keith takes his revenge by sliding his cold hands up under Shiro’s shirt. It has the desired effect. Hissing, Shiro wriggles beneath Keith. His eyes snap open and he glowers. It’s a bit... Adorable really. Because he’s sleepy and disgruntled and his hair is oddly flattened from where the book was mashed against his skull.

“Isn’t Angela the girl Matt likes?” Shiro asks as he settles. His voice is soft and gravelly. Keith likes the sound of it.

“Mmm,” He affirms, wriggling closer. He tucks his palms underneath Shiro’s back and shifts upright so that their noses touch. “Also I jumped out a window and ran from the MP. It was kind of awesome,”

That has Shiro’s brow crinkling as his sleepy thoughts struggle to piece the information together. Eventually, his mouth purses in a frown and he angles Keith with a confused look. “...What?” He asks.

Keith sniggers, utterly charmed by the look. “I can’t even fucking handle you right now,” He replies.

The confusion on Shiro’s face drains away, replaced by something soft and appraising. He arches a brow and Keith is deeply pleased by the sudden flush that spreads out along Shiro’s cheekbones.

“...Yeah?” Shiro questions, and there is something dreadfully alluring about how hopeful he sounds. Like he can’t quite believe his luck.

It has the heat in Keith’s belly flaring up until it kicks him into action and he brushes forward to capture Shiro’s mouth in a decisive kiss. He’s gentle, despite the insistent exploration, and Shiro opens willingly beneath him. Just as predicted, his sleepiness has made him all the more malleable and needy and it’s something Keith takes advantage of. He sits up, breaking away just long enough to whip his own shirt up off his head and chuck it aside. Shiro spreads his palms up over Keith’s naked skin when Keith leans back in. He shivers as the goosebumps start to rise and dives in for another kiss.

“You taste like a liquor bottle,” Shiro teases once they break apart.

Keith hovers close and their noses bump. “Mm. A little. It was worth it though. I beat you,”

Shiro arches up, nibbling at Keith’s lower lip. “Did you? How do I know you’re not lying.”

Frowning, Keith rears back. He shoots an annoyed look down at Shiro. “Don’t be a sore loser. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you.”

Shiro smiles, soft and sleepy. He sets his palms to Keith’s hips where his thumbs knead into the jut of Keith’s hip bones. “So, what? You come here to claim some sort of prize?”

There’s something decidedly coy about the way he says it. A challenging lilt sits in the corner of his mouth and his lashes hover at half-mast. It’s both flirtatious and just demure enough that it sinks it’s claws into Keith and leaves him wanting to take and take and absolutely _wreck_ the beautiful boy he’s got between his thighs.

In the pit of Keith’s stomach, something hot and dark churns. He shifts back, purposeful in the way he gives his hips a sinuous little roll.

“I’m going to _destroy_ you, Shirogane,” He intones, his voice gone to gravel. It’s as much a promise as it is a threat, and Keith’s mouth splits into a feral grin as Shiro goes flush beneath him.

The heat settles in Shiro’s face, coloring him pink right to the tips of his ears. It’s enticing as hell, so Keith bends forward to smooth his fingertips over the pink gathering on the apples of Shiro’s cheeks.

“Oh?” Shiro counters conversationally.

He’s trying to play it cool, but Keith can feel the way Shiro’s cock plumps and fills out beneath the curve of his backside. Keith rocks again, which pulls a stifled groan from Shiro.

“Mmmhm,” Keith hums. He trails his fingertips down along the curve of Shiro’s nose and smooths the pad of his thumb along the softness of Shiro’s lower lip. “I’m gonna wreck you so hard. I have to prove my alpha status or some shit.”

Glancing down, Keith notes that Shiro’s expression is halfway between mirth and arousal. His eyes are massively dark, blown wide by the prospect of what Keith is threatening. Keith feels the way that Shiro’s fingers dig into the meat of his hips and he grins. He bends closer, planting his palms on the mattress near Shiro’s head.

“Do you submit?” He questions with an arched brow.

Shiro fucking _whines_. He nods and clenches his eyes shut and Keith knows that he has Shiro right where he wants.

“Yeah,” Shiro whispers, soft and needy. “I do--I --”

Leaning in, Keith licks a stripe up the bared column of Shiro’s neck. He can’t help the satisfied smirk. Especially when Shiro shudders beneath him and it trembles out through his limbs from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

“You finish your report?” Keith questions, voice low as he lips at the stubbly line of Shiro’s jaw.

Shiro nods as he murmurs an affirmative response. “Yeah,” He replies, breathless.

His hands skate down along Keith’s sides and palm at Keith’s backside in a way that is more coaxing than possessive. Keith resists the urge to tease, instead bucking down so that the front of his jeans scrape the soft material of Shiro’s sweats. The flush on Shiro’s face deepens and starts to spread under the collar of his shirt. It’s enticing, and Keith wonders what other parts of Shiro are flush and wanting.

“Good boy,” Keith praises, feeling bold. Grinning then, Keith swings upright. For a second the world spins dizzily, and he wobbles. Shiro catches his hips and holds tight.

“Keith? You okay?” Shiro asks. His eyes are dark and molten, but there’s a concerned pinch in his brows.

Keith nods, closing his eyes a moment. Almost it’s like he can feel the earth spinning. Keith’s skin feels too hot for his body.The way that Shiro’s got hold of him, is the only fixed thing keeping Keith from spiraling away. He makes a soft sound, which Shiro must read for distress because he carefully eases himself upright and slings his arms around Keith’s middle to keep him from falling over.

“Hey,” Shiro croons, voice soft. “Maybe we should just get some sleep. You look pretty tanked, babe,”

Tanked is a good word for it. Keith thinks he must be tanked if he feels like he’s about to fall off the planet. He wraps his arms around Shiro and bends close. He mashes his forehead into Shiro’s fluffy fringe. “Nngh. ‘M fine. Ish. I just...” He trails off. Unsure of what he wants to say. His tongue feels clumsy in his mouth.

Shiro is patient though, he steals a chaste little kiss and hauls Keith closer. His palms are warm along the curve of Keith’s spine and after a few moments, Keith feels a little less drunk. He angles his head against Shiro’s ear, trailing kisses along the shell of it. He’s got his fingers scraping along the soft fuzz of Shiro’s undercut, and the tactile sensation of it is particularly enjoyable.

“I think I drank too much,” Keith admits after a while.

The admission has Shiro snorting out a laugh. “You think?” He counters.

The response has Keith sniggering as well. “Just a little? I dunno, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It always seems like a good idea at the time,” Shiro replies.

Keith can’t argue with that. But he knows what he wants. Snorting, he wriggles away from Shiro enough to get a hand between them. It’s clumsy the way he bullies Shiro out of his tee. Keith flings it away with the barest of thought, then he shoves Shiro backward into the mattress. It’s a little less gentle than it could’ve been, but it doesn’t bother Shiro. In fact, his nostrils flare in surprise and there’s something about the way he lays splayed out beneath Keith that’s docile and submissive.

The dark thing is slithering around Keith’s belly again, and he grins as he slides up and plants himself atop Shiro’s chest. He reaches out a hand to skate his fingertips clumsily along the seam of Shiro’s mouth.

“..You cool with this?” Keith asks.

Shiro sucks in a breath through his nose. It’s loud in the quiet between them. He nods. “Yeah,” He replies. It’s soft enough that he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah. I’m-- It’s cool. I’ll let you know if it isn’t.”

“Okay,” Keith replies. He bends down, albeit a little awkwardly and claims Shiro’s mouth a possessive kiss.

Keith isn’t sure why he feels so intent on taking. On _claiming_. Sure, he and Shiro have fooled around plenty since that night in the shack several weeks ago. But nothing like this has ever come up, nothing that has made Keith want to pin Shiro down and wreck him. It feels a little dangerous. It feels a little like racing off the edge of the world at break-neck speed. The dark thing in Keith’s belly wants Shiro to be good for him.

“Okay,” Keith reiterates, easing upright. He snags a few pillows and pushes them up under Shiro’s head, propping him up.

Shiro, clever guy he is, does as directed. He’s quiet, apart for the loud rasp of his breathing. He does make a soft, groan of a sound when Keith unzips the fly of his jeans and takes himself out. Keith’s cock is definitely interested in what’s going on. Even so, Keith gives himself a few experimental strokes with his right hand. Meanwhile, his left is busy thumbing at Shiro’s plush bottom lip.

Indecision is writ in the way that Shiro’s brow is wrinkled, and it makes Keith a little curious. He’s clearly fighting some impulse. It raises some questions on Keith’s part, but given how this has played out so far he has an idea; an inkling that their little game is pushing more buttons for Shiro than Shiro is willing to admit.

Keith pushes his thumb into Shiro’s mouth. “Open,” He commands.

Shiro shudders and complies with the order immediately. _Oh_ , Keith thinks. He’s not sure why he hadn’t realized it sooner. Time to test the theory. He shuffles closer and after some rearranging on both their parts, Keith angles the head of his prick so that it bumps and skidders teasingly along the moist seam of Shiro’s parted lips.

Shiro doesn’t move though, not even an inch. He holds himself perfectly still, waiting. He watches Keith through lowered lashes, complacent, and Keith continues to tease himself by sliding the moist crown of his cock along Shiro’s mouth. The drag of Shiro’s warm lips is good, and Keith can’t help but shiver. He teases himself for several more passes, then he eases his cock into the humid warmth of Shiro’s mouth. Shiro groans, but says nothing, allowing Keith to do as he likes.

The dark thing has Keith easing forward until the slick head of his cock bumps into Shiro’s tonsils. Shiro’s throat constricts reflexively and Keith’s muscles twitch in response. He blows out a startled curse.

“Go on, show me what you’ve got,” Keith directs, low and uneven.

Shiro complies in an instant. His lips close around Keith’s girth creating a seal and Shiro hollows his cheeks as he suckles at the length of Keith’s cock enthusiastically. Eyes closed, Shiro hums in pleasure and the sound vibrates around Keith from root to tip. It’s enough to have Keith shooting out a hand to brace it on the wall above Shiro’s bed. He doesn’t mean to roll his hips into the snug suction of Shiro’s mouth, but Keith does and it feels fantastic. He does it several times before it has Shiro groaning out a long, needy purr of a sound with every thrust. When Keith punches forward a little more roughly than he intends, Shiro tenses and shivers beneath him.

It doesn’t go unnoticed. Keith’s own muscles are clenching and quivering in his belly. He glances down and curses at what he sees. Shiro’s face and chest are scarlet and he’s got his eyes shut. His mouth is slick with spit and he’s eager as he works Keith’s prick. Easing back, Keith reaches down and pulls himself from the perfect, tight heat of Shiro’s mouth. Keith doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he pushes the head of his cock up over the curve of Shiro’s cheek, smearing it with spit and pre-come. He makes a mess of Shiro’s face and shivers at the sensation of his glans bumping over the ridge of Shiro’s nose.

“I want...” Keith begins, head swimming. “I want--”

Shiro opens his eyes. They’re nearly black, dazed, behind the curtain of his lowered lashes. He angles his head to the side, capturing the curve of Keith’s prick with his tongue. He licks at it kittenishly even as one of his massive hands reaches out to cup Keith’s balls to give them a gentle tug. Keith jolts and the sensation has him doubling over and scrabbling at the wall.

“Go ahead,” Shiro encourages. His voice is low, scratchy. “I can handle it,”

Keith grunts. He grabs his dick and pushes it back into Shiro’s mouth. Shiro flattens his tongue and hollows his cheeks. His tonsils constrict as Keith pushes past them and keeps going until his pelvis bumps Shiro’s nose. He hovers there rolling his hips in tight, little thrusts under Shiro smooths a hand up Keith’s thigh, egging him on. Keith takes what he wants. His pace isn’t gentle, but Shiro takes it beautifully. He groans as Keith fucks his mouth, and Keith is entranced by the sight.

His fingers skid down the wall, finding Shiro’s hair. Impulse has Keith tugging at it as he stuffs Shiro’s mouth full. The noise is wet and obscene and Shiro is _loud._ His breathing is harsh jagged and he makes low, wrecked noise every time the crown of Keith’s dick slides against the back of his throat. Keith’s pace only falters when his orgasm rips through him. It’s sudden and quick, and he swears as his hands tighten on Shiro’s hair.

The dark thing, the possessive thing, has Keith pushing forward to bury himself to the hilt as he pulses and twitches and comes in Shiro’s mouth. Shiro makes a soft, helpless sound and digs his fingers into the meat of Keith’s thighs. His throat convulses suddenly, gagging a little, and the seal of his lips breaks. Spit and come drool down Shiro’s chin as Keith rolls his hips. He convulses, whining, while Shiro recovers and carries Keith through his shuddering finish. Keith’s lungs are still burning as he finally slips free of Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro is a mess, a shivering, panting mess. His skin is warm and flush and he’s damp right down to his clavicles. Keith eases Shiro’s head back into the pillows. He pets his fingers down the line of Shiro’s jaw, smearing the mess across his neck and chin with one palm.

“Fuck,” Keith swears. “Fuck-- You look-- _Yeah._ Fuck. Look at you. _”_

Keith still wants him. He bends down, un-coordinated, to devour Shiro’s mouth. Shiro groans loudly in reply and lets himself be claimed. All Keith can taste is the salty tang of himself and its messy. He thinks he’ll probably be grossed out later when he’s sober, but now it seven different kinds of hot and if he hadn’t just come he’d want to fuck Shiro’s perfect mouth again. Now, he settles for licking out the taste of himself and shoving his hands down the front of Shiro’s sweats.

Keith’s got his fingers around Shiro in no time flat and he’s wet and leaking. Shiro spasms when Keith touches him, a curse of his own rumbling against Keith’s mouth.

“Shit, Keith I-- _Please_ ,” Shiro gasps.

Keith wrenches away and sits upright. For a second Shiro is confused, but then he realizes what Keith’s after. The sweats are off in seconds and flying across the room. It’s kind of a shame that Keith doesn’t have the coordination, or the stamina right now. Because Shiro’s cock is thick and full and begging to be properly fucked. Keith desperately wants it inside of him, but there’s no way that’s happening right now. Instead, Keith licks a stripe up his own palm and takes Shiro in hand. It’s crude, he knows. But the nightstand and the lube inside it are too far away and Keith needs to get Shiro off like burning.

It lacks finesse, but Shiro still gasps and writhes on the bed as Keith furiously pumps his swollen, aching cock. Shiro leaks all over himself and all over Keith’s fist and the wet slap is tantalizing. Shiro arches, spine going taut. He’s not going to last long and Keith knows it.

“C’mon, Takashi,” Keith urges. “I wanna see you,”

A soft, breathy groan punches out of Shiro. His abdomen clenches, going tight. Keith is merciless as he pumps Shiro through his completion. Come drips down Keith’s fist, splattering on to tidy nest of Shiro’s pubic hair. Keith milks Shiro dry despite the way he quivers and tenses beneath Keith’s fist. It’s only when he starts to go soft that Keith releases him, laying his cock gently on his stomach. It’s still flushed and red at the tip, but no longer angry and achingly hard. Keith teases his fingers along the soft, damp skin, smoothing his thumb over the silky crown.

Shiro twitches, making a soft, shaky sound. “Keith,” he warns, over-sensitized.

Keith bites it Shiro’s lip, gathers some of the salty dampness on his thumb then sits up to lick it clean. “You taste better than a liquor bottle.” He murmurs. “Maybe I should drink you next time.”

Shiro arches a brow at that. His mouth curls up into a sleepy smile and he laughs. He reaches out and draws Keith close, so that he’s piled atop Shiro again. He pulls Keith down into a kiss that is lazy and long. When he draws away he doesn’t go far, lingering near Keith’s jaw to give it little, nipping kisses.

“You get enough of a prize, babe?” Shiro asks, his voice is soft and raspy.

Keith thinks about it a moment, then hums out quietly. “Mm. I guess,” He says, weariness making his bones heavy. “Still wanna wreck you more though.”

Shiro chuckles at that. But Keith doesn’t miss the way his body tightens a fraction, pleased with the idea.

“You’ll just have to beat another one of my records than, won’t you?” Shiro teases.

Keith grunts in reply. He smooshes his face into the muscular expanse of Shiro’s chest and feels his eyes droop shut.

 

 

***

 

Keith wakes in increments to his stomach churning and gurgling. He tries to ignore it, but when he feels the burn of stomach acid climbing up his throat, Keith bolts upright. A blanket wraps around his legs and he trips as he scrambles from the bed. He just barely makes it to the toilet bowl before chucking his guts. It’s a tense few minutes and it isn’t until after he flushes the toilet and flops back on his heels that Keith notices that the shower is on and that Shiro is peaking out around the curtain.

He looks a bit like he’s just watched someone kick a puppy or something equally horrible. Keith groans and sits on his ass. His head is swimming and truthfully he still feels a little drunk.  

“There’s room in here for two if you want,” Shiro volunteers sympathetically.

Keith grunts. Slowly, so slowly, he hauls himself to his feet. His stomach feels marginally less like its trying to twist itself inside out. He goes to the shower carefully. Shiro steps back, making room. Keith crowds in under the warm spray and it’s super nice. It sluices down his face and neck and down over his chest. Keith stands there quietly, swaying under the water. After a few minutes, he feels a little more human. Human enough to push into Shiro’s slick chest and hide his head.

“Nngh,” Keith whines.

Chuckling, Shiro wraps his slippery arms carefully around Keith’s body. The sensation of their naked skin sliding together is enough to perk Keith’s interest, but he can’t muster the energy to do anything about it.

“That bad, huh?” Shiro asks gently.

Keith shakes his head. Well, more like rubs his face into Shiro’s slippery, solid pectorals. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Aww, my poor baby,” Shiro croons like it’s the funniest thing in the fucking world.

Keith grumbles a curse and reaches out to pinch one of Shiro’s nipples. Shiro, yelping, tries to wriggle away but Keith holds fast. Its amusing for about two seconds, then Keith’s stomach starts to churn again with all the jostling. He tenses, going still. Shiro goes still as well and curses as he scrambles to get out of the line of fire. Thankfully Keith’s stomach holds. He breathes slowly, in out, in out. Shiro’s hand, big and warm, slides comfortingly over his back.

“I’ll make you some tea once we get out, how does that sound?” Shiro asks kindly.

Keith wrinkles his nose. “I’d rather just go back to bed for seven hours,”

Shiro’s hand stills a moment, but then he continues. His thumb presses into the knob at the base of Keith’s neck.

“Sorry, not gonna happen, cadet,” He says.

Keith whines, small and pathetic. “Takashi,”

“No~oope, nice try,” Shiro replies, kind but firm. “You have a test today. You should’ve thought about that before you stayed out all night drinking.”

“No. I’m sleeping. Screw the test,” Keith tries again. He knows it’s a battle he’s not going to win though. Shiro will make Keith go to class even if that means escorting him. “I’m staying here.”

Shiro laughs and pats Keith’s shoulder. There’s a crinkle from a plastic bottle, then Keith feels shampoo glooping down the side of his head.

“You’re not winning this one, babe,” Shiro says as he starts washing Keith’s hair.

It feels nice enough that Keith doesn’t argue for a long while. Pride demands it though. “What if I give you a blowjob?” He asks.

Shiro falters for only a second, then he snorts out a laugh. “I mean if you want to. But you’re still going to class.”

Grumbling, Keith gives up. He’s doesn’t have the energy to argue anymore. Instead, he resolves that he’s never going out in the middle of the week ever again.


End file.
